People live there, it is true, but one sees very few of them.

Only in an old English market town on a hot day--such a town as Petworth, for example, in Sussex--do you get such desertion and quiet and imperturbability.

Monnickendam has, however, a treasure that few English towns can boast--its charming little stadhuis tower, one of the prettiest in Holland, with a happy peal of bells, and mechanical horses in action once an hour; while the tram line running right down the main street periodically awakens the populace.
When last I visited Monnickendam it was by steam-tram; and at a little half-way station, where it is necessary to wait for another tram, our engine driver, stoker and guard were elaborately photographed by an artist who seemed to be there for no other purpose.

He placed his tripod on the platform; grouped the officials; gave them--and incidentally a score of heads protruding from the carriages--a sufficient exposure, and was preparing another plate when an incoming tram dashed up so unexpectedly as to cause him to jump, and, in jumping, to overturn his tripod and precipitate the camera under the carriage wheels.

Now here was a tragedy worthy of serious treatment.